


In the Cards

by RileyC



Category: And Then There Were None (TV 2015), Poirot - Agatha Christie
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5698534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyC/pseuds/RileyC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I watched the recent BBC adaption of <i>And Then There Were None</i>, and my mind immediately went to, "What if Hercule Poirot were called in to discover what happened on Soldier Island?" This drabble is the result.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Cards

“I say, Poirot, this is a rum go.” 

A deck of cards in hand, Hercule Poirot regarded his old friend, Hastings, seated on the sofa with the morning’s newspapers. One did not have to be the Sherlock Holmes to deduce Hastings’ meaning. “You speak of the events on Soldier Island, yes?”

“I do indeed. What do you make of it then? Some random maniac?”

Poirot’s mustaches twitched infinitesimally with a smile. “This maniac, Hastings, he is rowing along his boat and spots this island, and rushes on shore to commit these murders?”

“Well,” Hastings mulled that over, “if you put it that way... Perhaps he washed up there in a storm?”

“ _Non, non_ , put this out of your mind, Hastings. It did not happen that way.”

“Well, how then? Somebody murdered these people.”

“Indeed. This fact no one may dispute.” Poirot began to assemble the cards. “Poirot, he thinks on this.”

“Oh? And what do your little grey cells tell you?”

Poirot held up a finger. “Do you have a pen and paper?”

Hastings produced both items, watching over Poirot’s shoulder as he wrote U.N. Owen. “This is who the police suspect, yes? This Mr. Owen?”

“Well, yes. He’s the one invited them all out there.”

“Ah, but see,” Poirot turned the paper over and wrote something else. “Now what do you think, Hastings?”

Hastings looked at the word. “Unknown. Unknown? U, N, Ow-- Oh, I see,” he said, enlightenment dawning. It as quickly gave way to a frown. “Except I’m not sure I do. There was no Mr. Owen?

Grave now, Poirot confirmed, “There was no Mr. Owen. There never was a Mr. Owen.”

“But then who got all those people out there? And why?”

“The why we know, Hastings. The other...” Poirot gave his head a slight shake. “The other Poirot does not know yet. But he will,” he said and placed another card.


End file.
